Genevieve "Genna" Galante knows a thing or two about
causing trouble. After all, it's engrained in her DNA. As the only daughter of
Primo Galante, notorious boss of the Galante crime family, her life is dictated
by a certain set of rules… rules Genna was never very good at following.

Matteo "Matty" Barsanti never wanted anything to do
with the family business, but as the first-born Barsanti son, certain things
are expected of him. It's his duty, according to his father, to help take down
the enemy... even if that enemy means something to him.

A chance encounter on an elevator changes the course of lives,
causing the biggest trouble of Genna's young life. The only good Barsanti is
a dead Barsanti. She's heard it said time and time again. So what happens
when she falls in love with one of them?

The story of star-crossed lovers caught in the middle of the
biggest rivalry New York has ever seen, determined to make it… if only they can
survive their parents' feud.

Teaser:

"A Roman Coke," Genna mused.
"What's that?"

"It's rum and Coke. We just call
it a Roman Coke around here."

"Because you're Italian?"

"And because when you get drunk
enough, it all just slurs together anyway."

"Ah." Genna picked hers up,
motioning toward him with it. "So what are we drinking to?"

"Today."

"Today?"

He nodded.
"Right now, this moment. Let's drink to it."

Smiling, she clinked her glass with
his. "Today, then."

They threw them back at the same time.
The liquor hit Genna's taste buds and she grimaced, the vicious burn seeping
down her throat and settling deep in her chest. "Ugh, is there even any
Coke in this damn thing?"

Matty laughed,
setting his empty glass down. "Just a splash."

"I couldn't tell."

"That's because I prefer it that
way," he responded. "Strong and rough, enough to leave a lingering
ache. I like it to hurt just a bit."

Oh good God. Those words sent a chill down Genna's spine, one she
couldn't hide, as Matty waved for the waitress. Eyes never leaving Genna, he
ordered another round of drinks.

"Another?" she asked, picking
up the water to take another sip, this one to soothe the sting in her chest.
"You said one drink."

A sly smile curved
his lips. "I like to keep them coming."

"Is that right?"

"Absolutely." Matty stood,
leaning across the table, his lips near her ear. "Maybe you'll let me show
you later."

About the Author:

J.M. Darhower is a USA Today
bestselling author, best known for her Mafia romantic suspense novels. She
lives in a tiny town in rural North Carolina, where she churns out more words
than will ever see the light of day. She has a deep passion for politics and
speaking out against human trafficking, and when she isn't busy writing (or
being a fangirl) she's usually ranting about those things.